


Papier Mâché Lungs

by unholyseraphs (oncharredwings)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drugs, End!verse, Illness, M/M, One Shot, sick!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1342924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncharredwings/pseuds/unholyseraphs





	Papier Mâché Lungs

The crimson and fire orange were a shock against the grey sky, Dean noted as he stood in silence staring out the window. The glass had fogged up around the edges from where the frost had formed on the outside. Dean's hot breath made slow puffs of condensation appear in tiny, foggy bursts. Clearly, October did not realize that winter had not yet arrived. 

The only other noise that Dean was truly aware of were the sounds of the labored breathing coming from the bed. Dean glanced over his shoulder at the lump beneath the blankets. Castiel was still asleep and Dean was content to let him rest, since he hardly ever slept these days. Each breath that Castiel drew in sounded painful, as if his lungs were breaking and falling apart inside of his chest. Dean stared at the form that he knew was Castiel, the angel that was no longer an angel; instead now, he was a remnant of his former self. 

Castiel was now a drug addict who had to have a fix to keep himself going. 

Catiel, no longer the angel of the Lord was dying. 

He couldn't remember when Castiel had started to become sick, and he wasn't even sure what plagued him; the only thing he did know was that when Castiel hacked and coughed, blood and sputum would appear on the rags he used to cover his mouth. He could remember when Castiel had attempted to hide the blood from him but Dean had found the bloody rags in their trash soon enough. 

He had promised Cas that he would take care of him until the end of days. Well the End Times had come and gone; the Devil was dead, Sam along with him, and now they just waited for the last of the Croats to die out, and for life to move on. Dean hadn't expected Castiel to become sick, not after all they had been through together. 

They had survived the end of the world together with 2014 long gone, and the Apocalypse finally coming to an end. There had been bitter reunions and bitter realizations that there were not that many people left. But Castiel was still around, and he had been beside Dean the entire time, fallen or not. Dean owed Castiel his life one hundred times over and now Dean felt the need to return the favor, but there were no doctors, and the only thing Dean knew how to do was to pump Cas full of morphine. 

The problem with giving Cas morphine over and over was that his human body had become addicted and without it, he was irritable, shaky, and even more sick than usual. When he had the morphine he was as high as a kite, and that did not make him pleasant to be around either. Dean wanted  _Castiel_ back, the one who had raised him from perdition. He didn't care if Cas had his angel powers back or not, he just wanted the old Cas to return to him before it was too late. 

But they both knew that wouldn't happen. 

"Dean," came Castiel's hoarse voice as he slowly began to wake up. 

"Right here Cas," Dean called gently, before walking over to sit down on the edge of the bed beside him. Castiel's skin felt hot beneath his hands as he helped him sit up and situate him around the few pillows they did have. "You're burning up." 

"I'm cold-" Castiel denied, reaching forward to pull the blankets tighter around his thin frame. He had lost so much weight that it made Dean want to cry. 

"You have a fever," Dean replied with a sigh. They had nothing to bring it down either; their first aid supplies were running low and the pharmacy that they had found had been ransacked ages ago. Castiel was too weak to go on a journey to find more medication and Dean did not want to leave him unattended. 

"I'll be fine," Castiel said with the hint of a smile; it was strained and the assurance did not reach his eyes. They both knew that he would not be fine. 

"You're dying Cas," Dean whispered. He allowed the words to tumble from his mouth and become true; they had been skirting around the reality for months but there was no escaping it now. Cas couldn't hold down food and it took so much energy for him to breathe that he had to stay in bed most days. 

"I know," Castiel replied quietly. 

Dean shook his head. "It's not fair," he growled. "Why isn't it me? Why are you the one who's sick?  _I_ should be the one-" 

"Shhhh Dean." Castiel reached up shakily to place a finger to Dean's lips. "It's okay." 

"It's  _not_ okay, you ass!" he retorted. "It's not okay. I can't go on without you  _and_ Sam. I just-I can't." 

Castiel leaned forward to press his forehead to Dean's, trying to smile. "You can and you will...you're strong Dean and the people need a leader like you. Someone who can lead without fear but who knows when it is appropriate to feel afraid." 

Tears were stinging Dean's eyes and though he wanted to brush them away, he could not look away from Cas' eyes because he wasn't sure when it would be the final time. He felt Castiel take his hand, and Dean laced their fingers together. Castiel's hands were thin and fragile; he could feel each bone beneath the thinning skin. 

"I love you Dean," Castiel whispered before pressing his lips lightly to Dean's in a tender and slow kiss. 

Dean gasped, tears sliding down his face unchecked as they kissed; he pressed his tongue lightly along Castiel's lower lip until he was given admittance. They could not kiss long because Castiel was soon having to pull away for air, and Dean eased him back into the pillows to rest. They cherished what little intimate time they had together because it was never long. 

Silently, Dean cursed himself because he had waited so long to make this happen between them. "I waited too long for this," he muttered aloud, tears still sliding down his face to sprinkle the blanket across Castiel's thighs. "I shouldn't have been so afraid-" 

"I don't regret it Dean...if I had a chance to do it all...over-...again I would-" Castiel gasped, trying to breathe and speak at the same time was hard on him. 

"The exact same way?" Dean whispered, still holding Castiel's hand. 

"Yes....but maybe with less...genocide...involved-" 

Dean smiled at that, as they both thought back on the time Castiel had decided to play God. "Yeah that um...wasn't so smart of you...but hey, we all make mistakes." 

Castiel nodded, his eyes heavy. "I'm tired Dean." 

The way Castiel said it, Dean had a feeling he meant more than just a desire for more sleep. Dean had to choke back more tears as he nodded and leaned down to brush their lips together again. "Sleep, my angel."

Castiel smiled slightly as his eyes slipped closed. Dean squeezed his hand and listened to Cas breathe in and out a few more times, before he stopped completely. Dean stared at Castiel and the way he looked so peaceful now that he could finally rest. Dean shut his eyes and slowly returned to the window. The sun peered through the overcast sky at him and Dean half smiled. 

"Take care of him, Sammy," he whispered. "I'll be there too...sooner or later." 

He could practically hear Sam, Jo, Ellen, Bobby, Kevin, and now Cas tell him to make it later. 


End file.
